


all you see.

by orphan_account



Series: tumblr requests. [72]
Category: Paul Is Dead (Movie), The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Light Angst, Short One Shot, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “So I kinda wanted this after watching the “Paul is Dead” film(I think it’s by George Moore???) Anyway it’s really and I just wanted to read a whole fic of like Ghost!Paul and Billy interacting. Like, just a purely platonic fic of Billy being a ball of pure stress and pressure, with Paul who’s, y’know, dead. Idk I just want Paul to help my boy Billy, this is all”





	all you see.

1967,

He couldn’t do it. He could not do it. He said he would. But he can’t. It was too much! He had gone from the simple calm life shepherding, hiking the lovely greens of the Lakes, watching the sunsets and sunrises to… to what! To playing and singing with The Beatles. Them! The Beatles! Pretending to be Paul or some version of him! What was he thinking of accepting that proposal? Had he just gotten carried away in the moment, looking down on Paul’s _corpse_? Or was this in some obscure way actually good and what was supposed to be?

He was pacing around in Paul’s old home. (for that was there John had placed him once they had gotten back to London. It was morbid and creepy but he had nowhere else to go, really). And being in that place really weren’t doing anything to steady his mentality that was going like a rock in a dryer; loudly crashing and banging against the edges, soon to smash through the walls entirely. And he knew that he had finally lost it when he turned to the fireplace standing proudly in the living room and saw a man. Or, the silhouette of a man. Or something like it. Billy weren’t sure. The form stood with arms crossed behind his back, looking down on framed pictures on the mantelpiece. He wassee-through like a thin piece of linen and Billy’s heart skipped several beats, high enough to get caught in his throat, when the man turned. It was Paul; a dead man, left in Scotland on that mountain. But yet, here he was. Standing in his own living room; a ghost of himself. Literally.

Billy stammered and felt a rush of nausea when Paul stepped towards him. He smiled kindly at Billy and greeting him in a voice that felt ethereal and very much real; making Billy lose the sense of it all being a dream more and more. “I…I...I… you’re Paul,” Billy felt his face grow hot as aforementioned stopped not too far from him. He nodded with a ‘_yes_’, the smile still lingering on his lips and with a long in his eyes that matched the kindness of it. “But… you’re dead,” he gaped at the man that looked very much alive, if ignoring the part of him being translucent which, as far as Billy knew, people typically weren’t.

Paul nodded solemnly and looked around the apartment, his face turning from kind to a wistful sorrow. “We all have our time,” he said in a low voice (barely a whisper) as he turned back to face Billy whose eyes were painfully wide as he looked upon the spectral form of Paul McCartney. “I have… accepted it. And are ready to rest but there’s one last thing I have to do, Billy. And that is… to talk to you.”

“… M-Me?”

Billy was in disbelief; it was hard to believe any of this were really happening, he was ready to wake up any minute now. Why would Paul need to speak to him before… moving on in the… afterlife. Or whatever came next. The ghost nodded and guided Billy towards a dark green recliner facing the now roaring fire; Billy assumed it was something Paul had done with whatever spectral powers he surely must have, for the fire hadn’t been burning when Billy paced the room earlier on.

“You needn’t worry, Billy,” he looked pitying down at Billy but it didn’t make the young man feel ashamed or any of the bad feelings that typically followed when he felt pitied. It was, in a way, comforting. Relaxing. Like a mentor guiding a mentee. “It’s in the stars, y’know, for the two of us to have met our fates in this way. A blackbird told me so…. You will do wonderfully.”

The ghostly hand touched his shoulder and an icy warmth travelled through to the pit of his stomach. Paul continued; “and if you ever feel overwhelmed or that it is all…_ too much_, you can always look to the sky and see me there, guiding you on.” He stepped away and looked out the open window and before vanishing told the young man, “I’m going to my mother now. Be well, Billy, for you will do well.” 


End file.
